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bastillewolf · 3 years

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Corpse's Bride (I)

Pairing: Corpse Husband / Reader

Summary: When you end up in an unfortunate arranged marriage to salvage what is left of your parents’ wealth, it seems fate has other ideas in store for you; or perhaps it was the Devil who decided to bring back the dead?

Notes: Yea, I don’t know why I wrote this either, and no idea where this series is gonna go. If you have any suggestions, please send them. But I wanted to write something for Christmas since I haven’t posted in a while. I hope you all have safe and happy holidays! Let’s just get 2020 over with, please.

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Chapter I - The wedding

Somewhere through the clouds of smoke erupting from the city, just beyond the hills, lies a small town called Gloomington. Where the streets are always swept and yet seem never clean, where birds fly high through the sky yet never manage to reach the clouds, and where dreams are crushed underneath the wheels of creaking carriages and half-empty fish barrels. It might seem like the most boring old town, with its inhabitants that look like they’re either on the brink of death or very much willing to be, but it wasn’t to you. No, to you life appeared much more interesting, though not by your own volition. You did not turn a blind eye to the grey streets or creaking bones or listening ears, as they had always been the same to you, but the troubles you had yet to bear were much too big to focus on anything else.

Your parents had deemed that on your twenty-first birthday, you were finally fit for marriage. It was the age that they had gotten married, and by tradition, through their parents as well. Why they had decided to force this upon you as well, you did not know, for as long as you could remember you’d only ever thought of your parents to be miserable together. Their time with you was now something of the past, however, because if all went well today, you would be married within just a day or two.

It was already raining, which would’ve made the situation so much gloomier to you if you hadn’t been revelling in the fact that it meant you could take the carriage instead of walk. You didn’t mind getting your shoes or the hem of your dress dirty, but other people did. And the people you would be seeing today would not approve of anything that wasn’t perfect upon arrival.

You only remembered the Everglots vaguely from your childhood during the instance when you’d been playing in a similar storm and one of their maids had shooed you away, saying you were being too loud and an unfit view for their folk. Their house was a different story, however. It stood tall above all other houses, even yours, so it was hard to miss. You weren’t rich, even though your parents liked to pretend they were. Your father owned the biggest and only fishing company in town; the main source of income from Gloomington. The thing was though, the seas were being overfished, and all he was getting from the ocean now were ones the sizes of goldfish.

You presumed this is why your parents decided to marry you off to the Everglots’ son, Thomas. According to your nanny, they were a bunch of washed-up aristocrats. Otherwise, you’d never even caught a glimpse of them, let alone of their offspring. Which is probably why you were so nervous. If he was anything like his parents personality-wise, you hoped he at least made up for it on the outside.

“Stop fidgeting,” your mother said, snapping you from your daze. You looked down to your hands, which had been crumpling a bunch of the fabric of your dress together, probably creating creases. You wonder if you had subconsciously done it, simply out of spite, because the nerves had numbed any other senses. You smoothed it out, crossed your legs and folded your hands across your lap, to which your mother gave a pleased nod.

A glance towards your father told you not much else, he was too busy going through last-minute calculations in his notebook. This must seem like ordinary business to him.

Your heart jumped a little as you watched the horse pulling your carriage nearly slip in the mud. He’d been in your family for fifteen years now, it was a wonder he was still standing. Perhaps the whip was reason enough for such a solemn animal, confined to his leather straps and iron mouthpiece. You tugged on the silver chain your mother had draped across your neck. Some of the diamonds had been taken out, but you could only see it if you looked very closely.

The carriage wavered and eventually managed to stop with another crack of the whip. It went almost simultaneously with the clash of thunder.

Hopping out, you looked down to see your polished shoes had landed directly in the biggest puddle on the square.

“Oh, miss, you should’ve let me put my coat down for you,” the old coachman called out, rising from his seat.

Your mother’s unnerving gaze followed yours down to the puddle around your feet. “Yes, you should have. I told you to watch your step with those shoes. Henry, clean them up.”

The coachman then proceeded to lay down his coat in the puddle anyways, and even after your protests continued to polish your shoes with his previously clean white handkerchief. You thanked him when he was finished, to which he tipped his hat.

“Hurry up. We’re already late,” your mother said. You wanted to rip the whip from his hands and hit her with it, but your composure and good sense got the better of you.

The massive doorknocker hit the hardwood three times because of your father’s shaky hand, which seemed to collapse back down to his side immediately after.

To your surprise, no maid opened, but the lady of the house herself did. Missus Everglot looked down upon you with a smile that looked more like a sneer. Her hair was greying, almost to the point where it was white, a colour matching the black dress she wore. Weren’t you supposed to wear colour for a special occasion such as this? You’d been so bold to wear something green; your best dress, to be perfectly honest. Were you supposed to wear black?

“It is good to see you again,” she hummed, and your parents made noises of agreement.

“Our apologies for bringing the bad weather. But that usually means good luck!” Your father said. You all laughed, though mostly out of politeness.

She invited you in, and you were finally able to see the grandeur of the Everglots household. Or well, what was left of it. The unlit fireplaces on either side of the entrance hall made you wonder if they no longer had maids working for them or if they simply enjoyed the cold. There was only one butler you saw so far, the one who took your coats from you and then scurried off. A big staircase stood in front of you, leading two opposite directions upstairs.

“Ah! You must be the daughter we’ve been hearing so much about!” Mister Everglot suddenly appeared, his arms spread wide with the same smile as his wife spread across his pale cheeks. He also wore black, though he bore quite a bit more weight than his wife, almost to the point where the top button of his shirt looked like it wanted to bail ship.

“It’s a true pleasure meeting you, mister Everglot,” you replied quietly, holding out your hand for him to shake. He barely did, before brushing you off to gloat about things to your parents. “You know, we’ve picked out the finest gold for the rings. The blacksmith in town just did a marvellous job on them-“

The ring on your hand felt heavy. It was your grandmothers’, passed down from your mother and onto you. Now you had to bear the burden of a loveless marriage.

Your silent sigh was interrupted by a quiet clearing of someone’s throat.

You looked up to meet the eyes of a dark-haired boy, who was scratching the back of his neck uncomfortably. He asked you if he got your name right. You nodded politely.

“Hi, I’m- I’m Thomas. It’s very nice to meet you, miss.”

You huffed in amusement at his stuttering. “I don’t think you have to call me ‘miss’, Thomas. We’ll be married soon.”

He smiled shyly. “I would keep calling you ‘miss’ if you preferred it. Marriage wouldn’t change that for me.”

You stood there, slightly aghast. This boy was nothing like his parents. You wondered who had raised him because as you had been fortunate enough with your nanny, you couldn’t imagine his having been any different.

“Better watch it there, Thomas.” Another man strutted down the stairs behind him. He looked just about as pretentious as mister and missus Everglot. “Don’t want to scare the little lady off there.”

Sykkuno only chuckled, but you could sense that his friend didn’t have the best intentions. He introduced himself after you, “The name’s Barkis. I’m a… good family friend of the Everglots, I suppose.” He kissed your hand, which made you shiver uncomfortably. You tried your best to hide it, instead turning your eyes to meet Thomas’ again. They seemed much brighter in this gloomy place.

At least, that’s what you kept reminding yourself of as you looked at yourself in the mirror, trying to refrain from fainting as your mother kept pulling on the strings of your corset until you were quite certain a few ribs had been broken off in the process.

“Now,” she reminded you, “This will be good for the family. I know you’re an unconventional spitfire, - I don’t know who you got that from – but you shall learn to listen to your husband. It will save your father’s business and his honour, not to mention your dignity.”

You couldn’t breathe, you needed air. Your mother saw the look in your eyes.

“And as a final warning, young lady, if you dare to try to run, you better remind yourself that this family will never take you in again. Not when you come crawling back with not a penny to carry, not with a baby you got from another man. You will be as good as dead to us, if you wouldn’t have already died in some gutter.”

You nodded, “I understand, mother. I just need some air.”

She gave you one last glance, before nodding. She locked the door after she left.

It allowed you to burst through the doors to the Everglots balcony, where outside the rain had thankfully settled a bit to a slight drizzle. But you didn’t care if your dress got wet. You had to untie the knot at your back.

Quickly.

But you couldn’t reach.

You leaned across the railing.

If you could reach a little further-

But your hand slipped, and you felt your feet being thrown the wrong way as you plummeted down the second floor.

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#Corpse husband #corpse x reader #corpse husband x reader #corpse #among us #youtube fanfiction #corpse bride #pewdiepie #jacksepticeye

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itsnotokbutwereallright · 5 years

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“RULES: List the first lines of the last ten stories you published. Look to see if there are any patterns that you notice yourself, and see if anyone else notices any! Then tag some friends.”

1. 'Clint slung his arm around Kate’s shoulders. “Doesn’t it look awesome, Katie-Kate?” He looked proudly at the hand lettered sign that read “Hawkeye’s Pizza,” duct taped to the metal grated security door.'

Does Pizza Have Healing Properties?

2. 'Natasha had been trained to lie from an early age. Before she was granted the title of Black Widow, she had to lie to survive the other 27 girls that were in the Red Room ( the Bolshoiwhispered a voice in the back of her head) competing for the same position.'

Secrets, Secrets Are No Fun

3. 'She was going to kill him. Rip out his stupid goatee, hair by hair, and then beat him to death with the grabby hands of the security guard she was distracting. But first, she would tie him up and break every bottle of whiskey he owned in front of him.'

Ain't No Rest for the Wicked

4. 'It started, as many things did, with Darcy Lewis.

To be fair, her job centered around staying on top of social media and what was trending. When she saw the hashtag, though, it wasn't about how to have the Avengers relate. This one was for her.'

Me, Too

5. 'Clint Barton wouldn't describe himself as cocky. Confident, absolutely. When you'd won as many competitions as he had, and were ranked first in the world, you could afford confidence at the Olympics. His coach, Phil Coulson, made sure to knock him down enough times to keep the cockiness down to a minimum.'

Of All the Dojangs in the World, You Walk Into Mine

6. 'They had fought their way across the United States, left a trail of blood in South America, carved a path of destruction in Asia, cut a swath through Europe. Their names were whispered, with disgust, with fear; the kind of whispering saved for bogeymen. They had battled the world for each other, and had, regrettably, battled each other to save the world.'

One More Time

7. 'Nat, we have to huddle together for warmth.”

“Clint, just turn the thermostat up.”

“Pardon me, Agent Barton, but I can handle that for you,” says JARVIS. The room begins to warm almost instantly, and Clint manages to refrain from sticking his tongue out at the ceiling until Natasha goes to the bathroom.'

5 Times Clint Tried to Huddle for Warmth, and 1 Time He Did

8. 'He supposed it was inevitable. She was skilled at seduction; of dressing so men never looked her in the eye while she plucked the secrets from their brains, caught in the web she so carefully spun. They were dead before they knew what had happened.'

Their First Kiss

9. 'Clint sits next to Maria, for old time’s sake. He spins drumsticks, not arrows, because “they are a fucking weapon, Barton, and you are not spinning them next to me while you’ve been drinking.” Natasha has always been tasked with keeping The Big Guy with the Avengers, and he knows that even in the semi relaxed atmosphere, she will keep to her mission. He’ll find her later; they’ve managed this long.'

Age of Ultron - Party Scene

10. 'They had been at a Tony Stark Party - a favor called in by Pepper. Natasha always paid her debts. Clint tagged along because, well, free food. Natasha had been asked to dance by several men. She had agreed, her smile never wavering, though Clint could almost hear the cover snap into place. He just shrugged and ate as waiters walked by carrying various amuse-bouche (that’s what Nat called them, he just called them tiny appetizers).'

Darkest Secrets

Lol so I don't like starting with dialogue and I write a LOT of Clint Barton POV. This was fun to go back and see what I wrote - I legit forgot about some of these! And if you want to read more, I'm Kali588 on Ao3 😉

I'll tag @agentsofpuppies @shadesfalcon @cassiesinsanity @seibelsays-andwrites @holdmecloseandfast and anyone else that wants to play!

#fanfic #writing #my writing #fanfiction #tag game

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